


loud, but sincere

by riahk



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Established Dorothea/Sylvain, Eye Sex, F/M, Fantasizing, Hair-pulling, Loud Sex, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Post-Time Skip, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Tension, Spanking, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, okay slight plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:15:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28841508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riahk/pseuds/riahk
Summary: When Felix is spontaneously coerced into a threesome by Sylvain and Dorothea, he suddenly has a lot to think about.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Dorothea Arnault/Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Dorothea Arnault/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	loud, but sincere

Felix does not like noise, or so he likes to think. He avoids crowded spaces and long conversations. He never says more than he needs to (or so he believes, though there are several accounts reporting this is not the case). Idle chatter is the biggest offender, whether in the dining hall or the classroom, but sometimes he finds himself overwhelmed by the clicking of a door latch, or even the unassuming clink of porcelain.

One might think that in a monastery, it would be relatively easy to find a peaceful place to think. And there certainly are such tranquil settings: the chapel, the library, the secluded hallways or cloisters in the cathedral, and his room are all valid options for contemplation. Except Felix doesn’t want to contemplate; he only wants to act. It’s not enough to just have silence: he needs to move, to distract himself from a mind that is too clever and perceptive for its own good.

So today, like nearly every other day of the week, Felix is at the training ground during his favorite time. That’s to say the instances when the courtyards and halls are empty, or when all but the most dedicated soldiers have left, surrounding him with the types of like-minded people who either go about their drills in relative quiet or engage him in a challenging duel. This time it’s the former occasion, and it is also dusk. Felix swings his blade alone, his breath heavy with the hours he’s spent here already, his sight relying now on the surrounding circle of torches he lit himself.

It’s been a productive day. Too productive, almost, to the point where Felix is on edge at the mere prospect that something might ruin it. The anxiety that some _one_ could very easily ruin it. He has his bets placed in the back of his head on who the mood-ruiner will be. But he’s also trying incredibly hard to not sabotage his endorphin-induced high with intangible possibility.

Unfortunately his imaginings are warranted: a metallic clatter echoes from one of the nearby winding corridors, a series of loud clangs and a surprised cry that bounces off the stone and bombards his anticipating ears. The grip on his sword falters; strange how the chaotic cacophony of battle barely fazes him, yet a single dropped pot or toppled chair and he winces.

Ignore it, Felix thinks. Breathe and ignore it.

Except ignorance is difficult when there are hushed voices following the commotion, their nervous tones carrying through the tunnels in some bizarre feat of acoustics. They’re whispering, and he can’t stand it. Paradoxically and frustratingly, whispers are always the worst. If you’re going to the trouble of saying something, why half-ass it? Words are words regardless of volume, and Felix hates the husky enunciation and harsh sibilants of a voice trying to do the impossible and not be heard.

Also, to his greater frustration, he recognizes these whispers. Both of them, which makes it slightly better than knowing only one, in this case. He catches pieces of words, an almost-argument with a hint of urgency and something else he doesn't want to think about.

"Sorry," he hears. "It's difficult to see in here."

A pause, rustling, cloth and metal on metal. "We should clean it up."

Then a groan. Felix drops his arm, unable to focus. "We should, but…"

"Sylvain."

Felix grits his teeth. "Ignore it," he says, unwittingly aloud. His hands steady on the handle of his weapon, feet crunching against the gravel. But now the voices are suspiciously quiet, and the change is throwing him off. He can't win today, apparently.

Finally, after agonizing silence and an attempt to gather himself, the conversation resumes. "...Is that Felix?"

That does it. His feet move of their own accord, following the sound and wandering to the edge of the yard, rounding the corner. The talking continues as he moves. "It might be," Sylvain hums, as if he doesn't know his friend's voice from a mile away. As if they aren't attuned to each other's cadences, a natural inevitability and, in wartime, a necessity. Either way, Sylvain's statement helps pinpoint his location. They've left the door to the storeroom completely open.

"Sylvain, he's coming over here!"

"No, he isn't. He's just walking down the hall."

"He can hear us!"

"And he's leaving!"

Felix stops in front of the entranceway, able to hear but not see them with how dark it is. He does spot a brass goblet rolling lazily across the ground, narrowing his eyes at the hint of mess. A tense quietude permeates the air, a blind standoff of sorts as Felix contemplates going inside, telling them to stop or at least to move. Or he could simply leave, like Sylvain expects him to do.

Maybe it's defiance, then, that draws him across the threshold, though it could just as easily be curiosity. Not that Felix would ever admit to the latter. “You two,” he growls, nearly tripping over the shaft of a lance knocked onto the floor. “Are making a racket. Stop it.” Night has fallen completely, only a sliver of firelight peeking through the room, and all Felix can see are vague shadows, the pale glow of partially exposed skin. His hands reach out to grope at his surroundings, trying to avoid any more strewn obstacles, and his ears pick up the crisp swish of fabric and stealthy breathing.

He opens his mouth to say more, but a spark and a swell of heat from between Felix and the two darkened figures cuts him off, the sucking sound of a newly budded fire taking the place of words. Sitting on one of the crates is a multi-tiered candelabra, only half full of sticks, all now illuminated and revealing the intruders, one facing toward him and the other away.

Sylvain has his back pressed against a tall stack of boxes, blouse unlaced halfway down his torso and rust-hued locks swirled more haphazardly around his face than normal. Slender fingers are tapping against his chest, perfectly manicured nails painted vermillion. They lift from Sylvain's skin and tuck back a strand of chestnut-colored hair, part of a lightly mussed cascade of curls running over elegant bare shoulders and downward. Felix tries not to linger too long on the soft dimples of Dorothea's lower back, managing to move his gaze up as she turns to face him.

"Felix," she says, not a diminished whisper anymore but still soft. One hand stays behind her back as she leans into Sylvain, the other fidgeting with the strap of her dress. Like the man smirking behind her, the fabric of her bodice is also wide open, and Dorothea does nothing to hide the curve of her bosom peeking out. Felix tilts his chin up just a smidge more. "Nice of you to join us." No shame, all tease, and as Felix's eyes flick up briefly to meet Sylvain's there's a mischief flaring, as dangerous and tantalizing as the thin flames flickering beside them.

It occurs to him that he should leave, that the remnants of his interrupted training session are already unsalvageable and he may as well let his comrades have their fun. That's the polite thing. Unfortunately, Felix is rude, and a little vindictive. "You shouldn't be in here. Can't you go to one of your rooms?" he asks, dulling his annoyance with the lilt of a question. He rests his hand on his hip, head falling sideways.

"Here was closer," Sylvain explains lazily, his neck rolling languidly and his eyes half-lidded. Dorothea is still pressed against him, hiding his lower body with her own, but the suggestive expression fluttering over his lips makes it easy to imagine what's happening out of Felix's eyeline. Of course; Sylvain is insatiable, and from the look of things Dorothea shares that trait, even if she's better at hiding it.

When Felix fails to retort quickly enough, she cuts in, body swaying against Sylvain. "Why shouldn't we be in here? It's a storeroom. Anyone in the army can use it."

He rolls his eyes, knowing the prompt is a trap but biting anyway. "It's not meant to be used for…" Felix circles his wrist around, motioning to the two half-undressed delinquents. "For this." He keeps his mouth flattened into a thin line, trying not to let the embarrassment that's been heating under his skin come to a full boil.

But Dorothea is too attentive not to notice his unease, and her smile promises nothing good. "For what? What exactly is happening here?" Her body tenses and Sylvain's pupils dilate, his mouth twisting like he's holding back a sound. Dorothea's head bobs playfully, her curls bouncing lightly against her chest, and Felix can't help catching another glimpse. Her voice gets quiet. "Tell me."

Another trap, certainly, and this time he won’t take the bait. "I don't see why I have to," he says. "You know perfectly well you shouldn't be using this space for private activities."

She shrugs. "You're here. It's not private anymore."

Her voice is dark and crackling with the promise of chaos, the conversation quickly hurtling towards the unknown. Felix knows he should leave, is wondering why he’s still here in the first place. Both Dorothea and Sylvain are watching him expectantly now, and he’s shocked to find that the attention is thrilling, the curiosity he would have so harshly denied earlier intoxicating. Still, the polite option — spinning on his heels and abandoning this precarious situation — is looking more and more practical, not to mention safer.

So he turns to leave. “I don’t have time for this—”

"Since you've already gone to the trouble of a surprise visit," Dorothea interrupts impatiently. "How about you make it up to us?" His footsteps slow unconsciously, and Dorothea pauses before saying: "Come over here and fuck me, Felix." Each word enunciated with care. Her target freezes in his tracks. With grit teeth he looks back over his shoulder, fully aware that it’s a mistake. Green eyes flash confidently at him. “I know you want to.”

Against his better judgment, Felix pivots fully around to face them again. “What makes you think that?”

Dorothea’s concealed hand swings forward as she steps away from Sylvain, waltzing across the dimly lit room until she is right in Felix’s face. Her gaze captivates him, her figure tall enough that she barely needs to adjust to look at him with those tempting eyes. Felix feels a tingling along his hipbone as Dorothea’s fingers trace over the fabric of his pants, smiling as she cups his groin. He’s not hard, not yet, but with the way things are going that won’t be the case for much longer. “Just a feeling,” she mutters.

Felix admits to himself that he’s nervous, that none of the resolve he’s developed on the battlefield can aid him here. It’s bad enough that Dorothea — _Dorothea_ , how well does he even know her? — is soliciting him, teasing him, _offering_ herself to him. It’s bad enough that someone else could walk in at any moment. But what has him the most ill-prepared is Sylvain observing them casually from the shadows, seemingly unfazed by Dorothea’s actions. Like he was fully expecting it to happen. Felix searches the other man’s eyes, hopelessly and silently pleading for some guidance.

Sylvain frustratingly says nothing. “Don’t look at him,” Dorothea’s voice buzzes in his ear, electric like the spells she wields. Felix can’t pull his gaze away from Sylvain, who is only smiling enigmatically, putting up one of those terrifying walls Felix has seen on several occasions. An obfuscation that Sylvain is terrifyingly good at. “Or do,” Dorothea adds, her hands massaging Felix’s budding erection. Her head turns to follow his unwavering stare. “He’s nice to look at, isn’t he?”

Yes, he is, but there’s no point admitting it. “Um…” Felix trails off, becoming more and more aware of the sensations building in his pants, of Dorothea’s deft hands on him. His mind is turning foggy with arousal.

Finally, the eye contact breaks as Sylvain shakes his head, pushing off from the stack of crates and moving closer. He is focused on Dorothea now, sidling up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist, hands squeezing down along her hips and thighs. Dorothea hums happily at the touch, and Felix wonders if she knows exactly what effect her breathy voice and lustful smile has on people. She keeps making soft, excited noises as Sylvain kisses along her neck, leaning into his touches. As if rehearsed, they both meet Felix’s eyes at the same time. “What’s it gonna be, Fe?” Sylvain asks him.

He opens his mouth to speak, closes it. Dorothea contemplates before placing her other hand on Felix’s chest, letting Sylvain’s arms fall away from her body. “I can tell you exactly what to do. Would that help?” Felix frowns, beginning to feel insulted. She knows what he’s going to say, because next she adds: “No, it wouldn’t, would it?” She says it with an irritating presumption, like the answer was obvious, like he's so easy to read.

Felix looks to Sylvain again, but this time Dorothea is ready and, apparently, angry: her hand migrates lightning-fast from his chest to his jaw, gripping his face between her thumb and fingers. He lets out an involuntary whine, surprised by how forceful she is. “Look at me,” she commands. “What, do you think you need his permission? I make my own decisions.”

Their eyes remain locked for what feels like an eternity, a silent battle of attrition and stubbornness, of seeing who will be the first to break. Felix realizes that at this point, they’re only delaying the inevitable, that his decision was made when he stepped into this room knowing full well who was in here. He latches his hand onto Dorothea’s wrist, the one that is still brushing against his crotch, gently peeling her away from him.

But Dorothea is not so quick to relinquish control, and the hand cupping his chin moves down quickly to clap over his knuckles in retaliation. Felix smirks, pleased to see she’s acting exactly as predicted. In one fluid motion he grips her second hand, using his strength to wrest control and spin her around so her arms are pinned to her lower back and her shoulder blades are flushed against his chest. The yelp that escapes her lips is more satisfying than he was expecting, as is the way a shiver ripples down her spine.

Despite the confidence he’s just demonstrated, Felix’s heart is still beating wildly in his chest. Inevitably his eyes find Sylvain’s again; with Dorothea turned around, Sylvain finally drops his facade, tilts his head and flashes his friend a sympathetic smile. “Honestly, Felix,” he says with a shrug, stepping forward and leaning over to the side of Felix’s head. “The lady says she can handle herself. But if it’s really bothering you… I’m perfectly on board with this.” His breath is warm and his tone is relieving, like he’s soothing a child who’s experienced a nightmare.

Sylvain pulls away and looks to Dorothea, grinning excitedly as he tilts her chin up and takes her lips in his. She pulls playfully against Felix’s grip, rocking her hips back against his as Sylvain’s hands pull the straps of her dress further down. There is a rustling as Sylvain frees Dorothea of her garment, crimson pooling around their feet, following the cloth to the floor as his palms brush along her sides, squeezing her bare hips. His fingers dig into the waistband of her smallclothes, sliding them slowly down to join the other discarded pieces and fully, satisfyingly exposing her.

On his knees, Sylvain presses his fingers experimentally against Dorothea’s clit, eliciting a soft gasp that encourages him to slide further into her folds. “Sylvain,” she whines, tugging Felix forward as she grinds against the redhead’s hand, allowing him to slip easily inside her.

“Getting her warmed up for you,” Sylvain says, looking mischievously up at Felix, continuing to pump his fingers.

Felix’s mouth is right at Dorothea’s ear, relishing the way he can feel every tremor passing through her body. “Oh yeah?” he asks, fingertips drumming against her wrist. “I doubt she needed the help, personally.”

Dorothea’s response is slightly begrudging, like the shifting of control away from her has just sunk in. “Glad to see you're getting in the mood, Felix.”

He scoffs, wasting no time to guide her body forward, pressing himself against her behind and exhaling steadily. Sylvain rises slowly, meeting Dorothea halfway in another kiss, a quick detour before straightening back to his full height. He runs one hand casually through Dorothea’s hair, the other motioning towards Felix’s lower body, visible now with Dorothea bent forward. “Need some help there, Fe? Your hands look full.”

There’s a hesitance, a reluctance to release Dorothea’s hands, but Felix does it. Dorothea’s newly freed arms quickly wrap around Sylvain’s waist as his hands steady her shoulders. Felix works to unlatch his belt, to undo the fly of his pants, running a hand over his length as it emerges from the fabric. Sylvain stares mesmerized at his cock, smiling encouragingly; there's a degree of genuine interest in Sylvain's eyes that makes Felix blush, that makes his mind race with a million errant thoughts, but he pushes them aside. There's a job to be done.

With his free hand he cups Dorothea's firm ass, follows the curve of her hip and presses into her lower back, listening to the melodic sound of her breath. It's dripping with anticipation, and coincidentally so is her cunt, Felix notes as he positions himself against the entrance, relishing the wanting hum escaping Dorothea's lips. "You've been dreaming about this, haven't you?" Felix asks, his mouth moving on its own. "Fantasizing about me taking you." He inches his tip into her, nails scratching lightly along the base of her spine.

"Yes," Dorothea breathes as he pushes himself into her, steadily deeper. "Goddess, Fe, yes." Her fingers are still digging into Sylvain's sides, the crown of her head pressed lightly into his abdomen as her gaze stays trained on the floor.

"Is it always like this?" he asks, drawing on all his self control to not immediately bury himself in her, to resist the urge to moan at how good being inside her feels. "In the storeroom? Me behind you?" Sylvain watching, he almost adds, but for all his burning curiosity there are some things he's still wary to ask. "I know you're plenty creative. Enlighten me."

Dorothea moans as his full length reaches her insides, taking a moment to answer. "Sometimes we're in the old classrooms, or one of the offices…" Her breath hitches as Felix begins to fuck her, slowly, savoring every inch and the way Dorothea's body tenses with desire. "Several times it was me spread-eagle on the war room table," she says, and Felix can practically hear her excited smile. "Sometimes right in the middle of the training grounds. You on top of me after besting me in a fight. Not caring who's there to see."

Felix regards her statement with cool fascination. "I'm noticing a theme here," he mutters, leaning forward so he can take hold of Dorothea's breasts.

She reacts favorably to the action, moans growing rich and dark like wine. "Mmhm. Then there's the ones where you and Sylvain hold me down and use me," she begins, and Felix's eyes — currently watching the back of her head, the graceful slope of her neck — widen before scanning upward, finding Sylvain looking at him with a sense of ethereal wonder, a touch of reckless intent. "One time," Dorothea huffs, her words sounding more and more labored as Felix moves in her. "One time it was me… watching you fuck Sylvain."

And now Felix realizes Sylvain is staring at him, really getting a good look, has probably been spending this whole time meticulously watching him and his response to Dorothea's recollections. He must appear nervous again, he thinks, as Sylvain tilts his head playfully, licks his lips, all things he knows only Felix can see. A silent conversation; then, the one thought he'd been avoiding invades Felix's mind. The feeling that, right now, it _does_ actually feel a bit like he's fucking Sylvain, and that he doesn't hate it. Felix straightens back up, though it only partially remedies the looming presence of the other man and the budding feeling that he’s being used as a source of forbidden entertainment.

Giggles cut through the silence, bubbling from Dorothea's lips; she clearly knows what she's just made Felix consider. "Ah, should I keep going?"

Sylvain is being suspiciously quiet, though Felix doesn't know what he wants to hear from his best friend right now. Instead he keeps staring into brown eyes, unable to look away or back down. "No…" he sighs. "No, I think I'm appropriately inspired, now." In a flash of determination he grips Dorothea tightly in his hands, moving faster. "Fuck, Dorothea," he mutters, struggling to maintain his sense of control.

As the pace quickens Dorothea squeezes tighter against him, fucking him back enthusiastically. Sylvain finally makes a move, bringing a hand to the hardened outline straining against his trousers. He unbuttons them and releases his own cock, standing tall next to Dorothea's face, though his exact intentions are as yet unclear. Sylvain strokes himself up and down as Dorothea continues to brace against his body. With his other hand Sylvain cups her jaw, looking down at her lovingly. "Having fun?"

She hums affirmatively, nods her head rapidly as she holds tight to Sylvain's steady hips. Felix watches Sylvain playing with himself, notes that his gaze doesn't settle on a single person, that he appreciates the entire show. Sylvain is apparently perfectly comfortable admiring _both_ of them, drinking in the sight of their passion.

Then Dorothea finds her voice again, plays it like an instrument that shudders across her skin. "I've been bad, haven't I, Fe?" she asks, promising more. "Tell me I've been bad."

It's a commanding growl, one that Felix takes a moment to process. His hesitance is back, a mild disbelief that Dorothea is as into this as she appears to be. "Yes… you've been a very bad girl, haven't you, Dorothea?" he tries, scraping his nails over her skin again and smiling at the way Dorothea bucks her hips. "Having such uncouth thoughts about me," he continues; like earlier, the words spill out of their own accord, drawing on a well of confidence Felix was unaware he had. "You're just insatiable, aren't you?" he asks, voice a harsh whisper, the kind he claims to hate. His eyes meet with Sylvain's again, flaring with competitive spirit, and he's pleasantly surprised to find that for the first time Sylvain looks taken aback, out of his element.

"You really should punish me," Dorothea says. "Spank me, Felix. Show me what you do to bad girls."

Felix's arousal has been building steadily, but that request hits him with a swelling force that nearly brings him over the edge. He reigns it in, sees Sylvain struggling to hold back himself. "Gladly," Felix says, raising his hand and bringing it down hard on Dorothea's flank. The sound cracks satisfyingly through the small room, and Sylvain still has an incredulous half-smile on his face that Felix could probably get drunk off of.

Meanwhile, Dorothea makes her enjoyment known with a rumbling moan. "Yes," she hisses. "Again."

The next one is even louder. "Again!" Dorothea cries, her fingers lacing into Sylvain's free hand. The latter's eyes are glazing over with pleasure; Felix can't see Dorothea's, but from the sounds she's making he suspects they're mirroring her partner's. After the third strike she pants: "Pull my hair. Be rough with me, Felix, I can take it."

Indeed, the lady can handle herself, Felix recalls, weaving his fingers into her scalp and tugging. Dorothea's gaze curves skyward, settling on Sylvain, who continues to melt at the sight of her. Felix moves forward, breath hot against her neck, and this time when he peers up into the other man's eyes he is not intimidated. He would almost say he's achieved a full reversal, with the way Sylvain looks on in awe like he's witnessing Felix's well-practiced sword-fighting.

"Felix," Dorothea moans, speaking his name as well as she can with her neck craned so far back, with his strong hand gripping the back of her head. "I'm so close."

"Yeah," Felix breathes, not breaking eye contact with Sylvain. "Me too." The affirmation drives Dorothea wild and she gets loud, all sense of where they are melting away as Felix pumps quickly and her cries escalate. Sylvain is stroking himself furiously, face contorting with pleasure as Dorothea's hand slides under the fabric of his shirt, gropes at his abdomen and chest.

"Sylvain," Dorothea calls out, squeezing his hand tighter as Felix thrusts hard into her. "Sylvain, this feels so good, so– ah!" Felix's hand leaves her hair and his nails dig into her skin again, a move that renders her speech into an incoherent series of increasingly complex vocalizations appropriately demonstrating her range. He isn't sure what aspect of it tests his already thinning patience more: the overwhelming pitch and volume of her siren-like call, or the fact she's screaming out for _Sylvain_ instead of him.

He focuses on the former. "At this rate, the whole monastery will hear you," he mutters, creeping his fingers over her ear and cheek and sealing his palm gently (for him, at least) over her mouth. "Be a good girl for once and quiet down, would you?" Dorothea lets out a muffled response, laced with surprise; but she does what she's told, her unfiltered euphoria simmering down to soft sighs. The way she shakes against him implies that she's appreciating his assertiveness. "Better," he growls.

"Let me handle this, Fe," Sylvain says, fixing him with a dark smolder that hints at envy. He drops smoothly to his knees and directs his gaze to Dorothea, softening. "You really are being such a good girl, Thea," he coos, coaxing Felix's hand away and freeing her mouth only to take her lips in his. Dorothea pulls him closer, more moans escaping as their embrace deepens. All the while Sylvain is working himself into a frenzy, quickly approaching the same peak Felix and Dorothea have been building towards.

As Felix senses his orgasm on the horizon, he dips his head down to rest in the arch of Dorothea's back, hands gripping her hard as his breath grows ragged. "Almost there," he says, noting that the other two are currently more focused on each other. "Hey," he bites, one of his hands drawing a line down Dorothea's stomach, nearing her cunt. Before she can react to the gesture, Sylvain's eyes snap open and he narrows his eyes playfully at Felix.

"Right, let's go," he says, pulling away from Dorothea's lips and pressing his forehead against hers. "Can you come for us, babe?"

Dorothea demonstrates that she, too, can pull off a good growl. "Of course, sweetie," she replies. Her hand cups over Felix's knuckles, guiding him the few inches more to her clit, grinding against it as much as she can with Felix moving more and more furiously inside her.

"Good," Sylvain says with a hum. "Be as loud as you want," he adds, gaze now trained provocatively on Felix.

Those brown irises are the last thing Felix sees as he finds his release, squeezing his own eyes shut to better experience the rush of adrenaline sweeping across his body. He can hear Sylvain whine, grit his teeth, but it pales in comparison to the blissful moans coming from Dorothea. True to her talents, she steals the show, playing in perfect harmony with her impromptu supporting cast. Felix supposes he can tolerate the noise, just this once.

Their cacophony settles down into exhausted pants, Felix's warm breath beating against Dorothea's shoulder blades. When his lids flutter open again he sees Sylvain sunk down onto his haunches, quietly cleaning himself up, sneaking an unfocused glance at either Felix or Dorothea; it's not clear which. Dorothea mumbles wordlessly, shifting her hips fluidly as Felix pulls out of her. He plays his fingertips over her one last time before she lowers to join Sylvain on the floor, cradling his cheek in her hand. They look serenely, meaningfully at each other as she twirls a messy tuft of tangerine hair away from his eyes; Sylvain wraps an arm around her shoulder and pulls her close.

And Felix stands there, watching, the room growing cooler as night seeps in through the open doorway and his heightened senses dull back down to their usual levels. "Felix?" Sylvain asks softly. "Are you alright?" It snaps him briefly from his trance and he perceives both their eyes on him, expressions clouded by the cooling embers of their carnal activities. Dorothea's verdant gaze shimmers with a curiosity and gentle gratitude, but Sylvain's earthy glance, like his words, holds a darker tint of concern. "Felix," he repeats, the only indication that an inappropriately long stretch of silence has passed between them.

"I–" Felix looks down at himself, still mostly clothed, barely any indication or evidence of what he's just participated in. Unlike the two undone lovers settled on the stone in front of him. "I have to go," he manages, hastily buttoning up his pants and tightening his belt; he can clean up the rest back in his room, he thinks. Alone. He wants to be alone, now, and with that singular goal in his head he turns on his heels and walks swiftly out.

His name echoes behind, but there are no rushed footsteps, nothing to outrun in this moment. Felix escapes with only the realization that suddenly, damningly, he has far too much to think about.

**Author's Note:**

> Hellooooo reader! Thank you for checking this out! Dorosylvix is my Three Houses OT3, and while I’ve written some fluff for them in the past, I’ve had yet to write a good spicy piece. This crime had to be remedied immediately.
> 
> I don’t have a set update schedule for this, but I will do my best! We’ll be exploring more pairing dynamics next, there will naturally be more pwp, and as the tags suggest there will be eventual polyamory negotiations. Stay tuned!


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